


Type and Cross

by Hale13



Series: Whump Bingo 2020 [15]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Fainting, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Human Disaster Peter Parker, Irondad, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump, Whump Bingo, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hale13/pseuds/Hale13
Summary: Peter found out the hard way that he was no longer compatible with blood other than his own.  Tony plans to rectify the situation.(For Bingo prompt N5 – Head lolling as they no longer have the strength to hold it up.)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Whump Bingo 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943986
Comments: 8
Kudos: 160





	Type and Cross

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to play around with this prompt and this scenario for a while and it was as much fun as I expected it to be :D.

Peter was, overall, pretty careful on his Spider-Man patrols these days. Sure, he still came home with the occasional bruise but they had normally faded to a garish yellow/green by the twenty-four hour mark and were completely faded within forty-eight hours. After he had been caught by May the third time attempting to clean out a suture a knife wound some new stipulations had been put into place: he was to report to Tony after every patrol where he may have gotten injured and he was no longer allowed to do bathroom surgery on himself. Oh, and if he got stabbed again May would be confiscating the suit for a week.

So Peter started paying a little more attention and he got better at intercepting the knives with things other than his body. He was particularly proud of the one he caught on a metal trash can lid he had flipped and tossed like Captain America’s shield. Ned had fanboy’d with him for days over it and had shared it anonymously on Reddit where it went viral. He had sent the link to Mr. Stark with a trail of emojis and key smashing once it hit one million views and had received an eye roll emoji followed by the thumb’s up five minutes later.

And, maybe, Peter got a little cocky in knife fights now. Maybe he goaded his adversaries until they did throw their knife at him. He continued to find more and more creative ways to intercept them and web up the criminal at the same time. He even programmed Karen to start giving him a score between one and ten and constantly tried to one up himself.

That was probably why he was able to dodge the knife but not the gunshot after.

Peter had never been shot before but he did know what shock felt like by this point and could feel himself fading quickly so he webbed up the shooter with no further fanfare and hastily but clumsily crawled up the nearest building to collapse and wait for Mr. Stark. Karen had activated the ‘Screwed the Pooch’ protocol one the suit had been breached and showed a helpful map with a countdown until Mr. Stark’s arrival.

Things were pretty blurry after that for Peter; he kind of remember Mr. Stark arriving and applying a compression bandage to the entrance and exit wound on his abdomen and back. He had the sense of gravity shifting and cold wind blowing against his face through his mask. Rolling down a brightly lit hallway. A prick in his arm. A mask over his face. 

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Freezing but boiling at the same time. The sound of whimpers that he later realized were his. Hands holding him down and panic filling his lungs.

Then a hand through his hair and a soft voice promising ‘everything will be alright Underoos’. The swirling of freezing drugs through his veins and then nothing but darkness.

Peter woke up over twenty-four hours later to an ominous burning in his side that promised agony if he moved too much and Mr. Stark and May’s worried and exhausted faces leaning over his bed. He was too out of it then too really comprehend what they were saying and it wasn’t until a couple days later, once he had been weaned off the majority of the drugs and his head felt mostly clear, that Tony explained what happened.

“So I’m… incompatible?” Peter questioned, head still a little hazy.

“That may be putting it mildly buddy,” Mr. Stark told him from where he was reclined in the chair next to Peter’s bed and eating Peter’s lime jell-o (Peter _hated_ lime). “You needed a blood transfusion and Cho had only gotten about half a pint in your before you had the worse anaphylactic reaction shes ever seen. Your blood has mutated to the point that you can never receive donor blood again.”

“Then what do I do?” Peter asked a little despondently, picking at a loose thread in the blanket covering him. Even a few days after the surgery to repair his abdomen and weaning off most of the drugs Peter still felt really out of it. Dr. Cho and Bruce had both explained that it was from his anemia and would improve once his hemoglobin count went up.

“Well you’re not a unique case,” Tony told him as he scooped up another spoonful of jell-o and shook his spoon to watch it jiggle. “Rogers is the same way. We’ll get you a medical alert bracelet in case you end up in a hospital that’s not here so no one tries to give you donor blood and you’ll start donating a pint every three to four weeks until we have enough of a supply in case something like this happens again.”

Peter had hummed in response and had fallen asleep to Tony’s soothing voice going over his blood donation schedule.

It had taken about two weeks after his discharge until his hemoglobin levels were back within normal limits and another week after that before Dr. Banner decided that he was safe to donate. So, one Friday afternoon after decathlon practice, Happy had picked Peter up from school and dropped him at the Tower MedBay with Tony and Bruce for his first donor session.

“You haven’t donated before right?” Dr. Banner asked him as he sat on a rolling stool in front of the bed Peter was sitting on, legs dangling over the edge as he absently swung his feet back and forth. Mr. Stark sat next to him and typed away absently on his phone.

“No but I helped with the Spring Blood Drive at Midtown last year,” Peter offered up helpfully, ignoring the snort that came from his left. Bruce just shot his mentor an exasperated look before returning his attention back to Peter.

“Well the first thing I’m going to do is prick your finger to get a small sample of blood to test your iron level,” Dr. Banner explained patiently. “If its too low we’ll reschedule for a different day and I’ll give you a list of iron heavy foods to eat until then, good so far?”

“Yep,” Peter said with a nod.

“If that’s all good then I’ll have you lay back and I’ll insert a needle into the vein in your arm. The blood bag will be on a rocker on the floor and gravity combined with your bodies natural internal pressure will push the blood down the line and into the bag. Once it reaches a pint, I’ll pull out the needle and apply a pressure wrap and then you’ll sit here for a few minutes and drink some OJ and eat some cookies before I let you leave. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Peter said with a thumb’s up. He had never really been nervous around needles or had any issues in the past so the only annoyance he had was that he wasn’t allowed to patrol tonight. Friday’s were always the busiest for him and had the most crime.

“Any questions?”

“Nope.”

“Great! Let me just get the supplies and we can get started.”

Bruce was quick and efficient checking Peter’s iron level and announcing it normal, not bothering to put a bandage on the finger that was already healing. He then shoo’ed Mr. Stark off the end of the bed so he could have Peter lie down but didn’t protest when he settled on Peter’s other side.

“Make a fist,” Dr. Banner told him after tying a tourniquet tightly around his bicep and placing a stress ball in his hand. Peter had never been particularly vain, but he was slightly proud of the way his forearm muscles bulged and his veins stuck out. He may never be a body builder, but damn if the spider bite hadn’t given him some definition. Bruce only palpated his vein for a second before selecting the one he wanted. “Alright, I’m poking now, you may feel a slight pinch.” And then, using the largest needle Peter had ever seen, Bruce efficiently punctured his skin, taping the needle in once blood started to flow through the line.

“Now we wait,” Dr. Banner said brightly, unsnapping the tourniquet. Or, at least, that’s what he assumes Bruce said. All Peter could hear was the whoosh of blood through his head as his body felt hot and cold at the same time. He dropped the stress ball and startled both men in the room with him.

“Don’t feel good,” Peter managed to mutter out, blackness pulsing around the edges of his vision and his stomach rolling, head lolling forward to rest his chin on his chest. He felt so dizzy. Tony looked alarmed and leapt off the bed and swiftly lowering the head while Dr. Banner stuffed a pile of pillows under his calves to elevate his legs. Peter let out a groan and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for a minute to stay conscious before deciding it wasn’t worth it and surrendering to sleep.

He woke up what could only be a short time later to a hand running gently to his hair and the cold feeling of the needle still in his vein. “What happened,” Peter asked groggily, squinting his eyes open against the harsh LED lights of the MedBay.

“You passed out,” Tony told him bluntly, rubbing his thumb across Peter’s cheekbone. Peter made a face at him.

“But I’ve never done that before with needles,” he commented, taking care not to look over at the line in his arm. He still felt a little out of it and somewhat nauseous and decided not to test his luck. Dr. Banner leaned into his eye line from his place next to Peter’s immobilized arm.

“Classic vasovagal response,” he explained. “Sometimes when people have blood draws or donate blood or even watch a needle enter skin their blood pressure and heart rate will suddenly drop and cause them to pass out. It’s not an uncommon reaction.”

“Is it going to happen every time?” Peter really hoped not, he felt like a Victorian heroine swooning.

“Maybe,” Bruce hedged, a non-answer. “Next time I won’t let you watch and we’ll see if that works.”

They were quiet after that as Peter dozed through the last few minutes of his donation. He shivered a little when Bruce pulled the needle out but obligingly held the gauze square to his inner arm above his head so Dr. Banner could bandage it. “Can I sit up now?” Peter asked, a little impatient and embarrassed by the whole situation.

“We’ll take it slow,” Tony told him, assisting Peter in sitting up and holding him steady while his head spun. He felt weak and tired and just off and he really hoped he wouldn’t feel like this every time he had to donate. He sipped cautiously at the orange juice and nibbled on the cookie under both men’s watchful eyes, ignoring the dark red bag Bruce was labeling and placing in the fridge with the other blood bags.

“Can I go now?” Peter asked four cookies and a juice box later, feeling much more steady and starving.

“Sure,” Dr. Banner said, shutting down the lab and following Tony and Peter to the private elevator that would take them to the penthouse and Bruce to his floor. “Same time next month?”

Peter groaned dramatically into his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, my creativity is running a little dry and I still have 10 prompts left. Please help and send me ideas (my bingo card can be found on my twitter listed below). I still have to write all of rows G and O.
> 
> Thanks for any help!!!
> 
> I don’t have a tumblr but join me over on Twitter @Hale1310 - I just set it up and I’m looking for some prompts to combine with these bingo prompts and for separate stories!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


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